Sometimes keeping up with writing from behind prison walls can be difficult. When I asked Father George and Ryan to write, I gave no indication at all what I would like them to write about. Both tackled something painful but necessary, and I am in their debt. There is more to write on these topics, and no doubt it will be written soon.

But this week, something else has my attention. You may remember a post I wrote a few years ago entitled “A Corner of the Veil.” It was about my mother, Sophie Kavanagh MacRae, who died on November 5, 2006 during my 12th year in prison. That hasn’t stopped her from visiting, however. I had a strange dream about her a few nights ago, and I keep going back to it trying to find some meaning that at first eluded me.

The United Kingdom celebrates Mothering Sunday on the Fourth Sunday of Lent, but in North America, Mother’s Day is coming up on May 12. I wonder if that was what prompted my vivid dream. It was in three dimensions, sort of like looking through one of those stereoscopic View Masters we had long ago. Pop in a disk of images and there they were in three dimensions and living color. My dream was like that, even the color – which is strange because I am colorblind since birth. My rods and cones are just not up to snuff, and though I do see some color, my view of the world is, I am told, not far afield from basic black and white and many shades of gray. Priesthood saved me from a lifetime of wondering why people grimace at my unmatched clothes.

Back to my dream. I was standing on Empire Street in Lynn, Massachusetts, in front of the urban home where I grew up. My mother was standing with me, but in the dream, as in today’s reality, we could not go inside that house because neither of us lived there any longer. My dream contained overlapping realities. It was clear to me that my mother had died, but there she was. And it was clear to me that I am in prison, but there I was with her on that street in front of the home I left forty years ago.

The scene was the stuff of dreams, and it strikes me now that this dream was a reminder of something essential, some truth I could easily let slip away, but must not. I once wrote of that house and that street in an early TSW post called “February Tales.” I wrote of the books that captivated me in childhood, books that I read for hours on end perched high in the treetops along our city street. To this day I can hear my mother calling out a window in her Newfoundland brogue, “IF YOU FALL OUT OF THAT BLOODY TREE AND BREAK YER LEG, DOEN’T COME ARUNNIN’ TO ME!”

As my mother and I crossed the street away from that house in my dream, we spoke, but nothing of that conversation survived in my consciousness except one sentence, and it was perplexing. I said, as I kissed her good-bye, “I have promises to keep.” With a pack over my shoulder in my dream, I turned away to walk toward the end of our city street. In my youth, there was a bus stop there where I could board a bus that would take me the ten miles to Logan Airport or on to Boston’s North Station. From there, I could go anywhere. As I walked down the street in the last scene of my dream, I looked back to see my mother waving. I was leaving. I was always leaving.

You may recognize my final words to my mother in the dream. They are a line from a famous, multi-layered and haunting poem by the great Robert Frost entitled “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Here it is:

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

A LIFE AND DEATH CONVERSATION

I say this poem is multi-layered because all by itself, with no search at all for deeper meaning, it tells a nicely unadorned tale on its surface. However, I believe Robert Frost packed this little verse with profound meaning about life and death. For me, the owner of the woods who lives in the village is God, the Author of Life, our Redeemer from death, and One who calls us to a task that gives meaning to our lives – even when we have no idea what that meaning is just yet. Even when we do not even know the task to which we are called.

There is something haunting and alluring about stopping by woods on a snowy evening. If you have ever stood in the woods at night while it snows, then you know the awesome, mesmerizing silence of that experience. All sound is absorbed, and the powerful sense of aloneness can produce inner peace. But it can also trigger a sense of foreboding, of being cut off from the sounds and sights of humanity, cut off from life in the village. Today’s fear of death is, in its essence, a fear of utter silence, of the world of no more.

Even the poem’s “little horse” is a symbol of the simplicity of our animal nature. The horse ponders not the meaning of the woods, and “gives his harness bells a shake” to bring his rider back to his senses. “We’ve no reason to stop here.” The horse knows nothing of his rider’s yearning for surrender, for a time of removal from the civilization and social responsibility in which the Owner of those woods is engaged in the village ahead.

It’s okay to stop by the woods on a snowy evening. We just can’t stay there. Not yet. Robert Frost’s woods represent death. “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,” and they stand in the poem as an invitation to final surrender and rest. “Sleep” in the poem is a metaphor for death, just as it is for Jesus as he awakens Lazarus from the sleep of death:

“‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awake him out of sleep.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.’ Now Jesus had spoken of his death, but they thought that he meant taking rest in sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we too may die with him.’” (John 11: 11-16)

If you have read this far, and my analysis of Robert Frost’s poem hasn’t put you to sleep, then like me you might wonder what exactly I meant when I whispered to my mother that “I have promises to keep.” The dream didn’t spell it out for me, so I had to search for its deeper meaning.

In our poem, the rider seems to be on a journey, though Frost gives us no indication of its purpose or destination. At the end of his journey, the rider has “promises to keep” but the woods, “lovely, dark, and deep” are an enticing release from both the journey and his burdens. But the responsibility of his promises pulls harder than the woods, and his release – his inevitable death – is postponed. The rider moves on toward his destiny and the fulfillment of his promises – both those he has made and those made to him. He moves on, as I did in the dream of my mother, with “miles to go before I sleep.”

THE PROMISE

My mother died a terrible death, having suffered for three years from hydrocephalus, the build-up of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain. It was misdiagnosed in her early seventies, and by the time it was properly diagnosed, it could not be treated. She visited me in prison with a cane, and then a walker, and then a wheelchair, and then, for the last year of her life, not at all. Though only sixty miles away from my prison, she could not even speak with me by telephone for the last six months of her life. She became paralyzed, and entered a prison of her own.

In our last visit in the New Hampshire State Prison visiting room a year before my mother died, I told her I was sorry for what had become of my life and my priesthood. Most mothers of priests – especially Irish mothers – take a certain pride in the priesthood of their sons. My mother left this world with her own priest-son in prison. I worried about the wounds to her pride my false imprisonment wrought.

But all was not lost. There was grace even in that. Sometime between now and Mother’s Day I hope you might read anew – or for the first time – “A Corner of the Veil.” It describes a promise I made to my mother that I would never take the easy way out of the crisis that priesthood brought me to. I intend to keep that promise, and in a dream last week, my mother showed up to help strengthen its resolve. But more than that, “A Corner of the Veil” is about the continuity of relationship between the living and the dead. That post described a very subtle but deeply meaningful connection with my mother beyond this life, and I might have missed it if I let the growing spiritual cynicism of this world take root in prison and take my faith as it grew and festered.

What I described in that post is a true tale, and a powerful one, and I haven’t yet recovered from the nudge – a smack upside the head, really – from my mother. It was her wake-up call to me to stop by the woods on a snowy evening just long enough to peer through a corner of the veil between this life and the next, and to renew my engagement with both the mysteries and promises of my faith despite where I must, for this moment, live it.

I have heard from so many readers of These Stone Walls asking me for prayers for their mothers, living and dead, some beloved and some estranged, some deeply missed and some slowly leaving this world. On Mother’s Day I promise, the Owner willing, to offer Mass for all the readers of These Stone Walls who are mothers, and for all of your mothers. Those who have passed from this life are, I think, also reading, and they can hold me to it. Perhaps they’ll gather. Perhaps they’ll even plot. Were that the case, my mother would surely be in Heaven!

We, the living, have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep. First among those promises is to engage in a vibrant life of faith that opens itself to the continuity of life between this world and the next, something our culture of death denies. Fostering that faith, and making fertile its ground, is a great responsibility, and the source of all freedom. That’s the absolute truth! Just ask Mom!

“And he said to them, ‘How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’ And they did not understand the saying which he spoke to them. And he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things within her heart.” (Luke 2: 49-51)

About Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

The late Cardinal Avery Dulles and The Rev. Richard John Neuhaus encouraged Father MacRae to write. Cardinal Dulles wrote in 2005: “Someday your story and that of your fellow sufferers will come to light and will be instrumental in a reform. Your writing, which is clear, eloquent, and spiritually sound will be a monument to your trials.” READ MORE

Comments

Thank you for this beautiful post, Fr. Gordon, and also for offering a Mass for all of us mothers. My husband and I have prayed for you every night for years, and will continue to do so. You are an inspiration to so many, and I cannot help but believe God is using your sufferings for the good of many souls.

I am also the mother of a priest, so I have some understanding of just how difficult the life of a priest can be today. Our country has become so paganized and hostile to religion and the need for evangelization is great. Our priests are in need of much prayer.

Dear Father Gordon, Your Story was an inspiration!!! Your Love for Your Mom and her unconditional Love for you is as pure as Love can be. I was moved by your story “A Corner of the Veil” as well. A Big Thank you for the wonderful post you wrote for Karen (Pornchai Moontri’s Mom) For Mothers Day posted May 7th 2014 for those of you who have not read it yet!? Karen will be posting her Response soon. May you be Blessed Father Gordon for all your inspirations to others. Blessings and Love in JESUS’ name (Pornchai’s Dad) Joe

Dear Fr. Gordon,
our Father is always so timely in His messages! I received an email yesterday & sent you an answer in return. Then, I read this post. I can’t tell you how much i’ve been longing for those ‘Woods’ you referred to! I felt I’ve no more promises to keep because i’ve no more energy to ‘Do’…& you know the Irish women!! But, between the email & this post, I finally got it! So, it’s time to get busy for a very special Rosary for a special new friend. The pieces were put together after prayer….Now it’s time for Padre Pio & Michael to gather their forces & do their part. Thank you for reminding me of my promises & prayer requests many years ago. The Economy of our Father is only outdone by His Mercy! Pax Christi…

Hi Father Gordon!
We indeed draw our strength from those who have gone before us.
The misinterpretation comes in the definition of gone. Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there or aren’t aware of what we are going through here. Having had the same touch from a new-life loved one as you, I know that they will not let us come close to failing in this life. The love connection is not broken but enhanced far beyond what we can understand!
My Mom and your Mom are celebrating their day in Heaven together!
God love all of you always and you all are always in my prayers as well
Jeannie

The thing that amazes me about your dear mother was her incredible strength. Like Our Blessed Lady she had her heart pierced with the sorrow of seeing her son suffer but at no stage did she urge you to take the offer of freedom in return for giving up your claim of innocence. I have little doubt that it must have been very tempting at times to simply give up
A wonderful mother like my own who has been gone one year now and I will always be grateful for her example of unflinching faith no matter what sorrows came her way..

I’m new to your website. Absolutely beautiful analysis of Frost’s poem. I
am looking forward to learning of your story & life & will keep you in my prayers. May God continue to bless you, Fr. Gordon & May Our Blessed Mother watch over you.

Stopping By Woods is my favorite poem but I never could quite grasp the meaning that lurks among those beautiful lines even though I knew it must be something very profound. You have nailed it, Father. Thank you.

I have received your letter today and have spent the last hour reading through TSW. I read A Corner of The Veil, which I had actually read in the past, and then this entry. I did take that picture of Nana and Aunt Frances. That picture was taken when Nana and I went to Newfoundland in the summer of 1997. She was still doing so well then. By 1999, she had suffered her first stroke at the age of 72, and began to walk with a limp and a cane. By 2003, when we went to Newfoundland a second time for me, I was 16, she was using a walker. And just a short year later, she was no longer able to walk, something that she once had enjoyed so much. Nana was one of the strongest people I knew. She was loved, feared, and respected. That doesn’t come around very often! She is so missed in our family. She was the family stone. Love you and miss you. Will write you a letter tomorrow. Goodnight!

Again I find myself indebted to Fr. David Byers for introducing me to TSW and particularily your wonderful analysis of my most favorite poem by my most favorite poet in the whole world. Your thoughts were spot on! I would love to read your blog regularly as I do Fr. David’s. God Bless and may the earthly justice you so rightly deserve come soon!

Thank you for this wonderful post! Your beloved mother is doing a lot from the other world for you. Good mothers continue to be so even when they are gone in the next life. May God listen to her intercession on your behalf.
I am very grateful Father for remembering me in your Holy Mass on Mother’s Day. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me!
Daily we continue to pray in our Eucharistic adoration and Mass for you. We continue to be the persistant woman in the Gospel with the hope that God grant you freedom from your long imprisonment.
Thank you Father

Father
this post brought tears, I’ve lost both my Mother and younger sister. Their lives were cut short a very young age. Both mothers that tried to do their best, but left thus world leaving a void to us grieving. I often request Gregorian mass for both. Thank you for this post
Anna

Thank you for the beautiful reflection about your mother. God will surely reward you both. Thank you also for the gift of your Mass for mothers. I am very proud of being a mother, not only to my own children, but as a woman who feels called to pray and make sacrifices for priests.

God bless you for remembering your mom and all moms in your mass. My mom is deceased, and I am a mom as well. I’ll be praying for your mom and mine and those of all priests. God is with you, as is your mom.
Claire

Thanks for writing this article about your Mom, Fr. Gordon. Though my Mom died 56 years ago today, I still miss her so very much. Even more so now, that all the rest of my siblings are gone. At times I feel so alone, so I am most thankful for your and other friendships that have come to fill my life. Appreciate that you will be remembering my Mom in your Mass on Sunday. Thank you.

We, the living, have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep. First among those promises is to engage in a vibrant life of faith that opens itself to the continuity of life between this world and the next, something our culture of death denies. Fostering that faith, and making fertile its ground, is a great responsibility, and the source of all freedom. That’s the absolute truth! Just ask Mom!

Hi Fr. MacRae:
I have not visited here lately, but I have missed reading your posts. I am so glad I happened to read this one. I had to go back to read “A Corner of the Veil” and reread the comment I made then. Funny, it is almost what I might say in this comment today.

I copied the last paragraph you wrote here because it brings to mind what I need to do for my own deceased mother.She endured my bad temperament at times and unkind words which I slammed at her regarding the faith she had worked so hard to impart to me, when I was trying to justify my rejection of this faith. She silently allowed me to air my nastiness. How I must have hurt her.

Today and for a long time now I practice my faith with love and gratitude. She saw this before she died in 2005. At least I made it back to the Church so that she could die knowing that. Sadly my sister died without having done so, but she was a victim of other demons which prevented her from that return. I ask God for His mercy on her always. But my mom bequeathed the faith to us all in our family, and I try hard today to live that faith in every way possible for me. Remembering the souls in Purgatory and communicating with our loved ones who have passed on to the fullness of life is one way of doing that.

Anyone who spends time in prayer will know how we are all a part of the realm of God, those here, those in heaven, and those in Purgatory. Our voices are heard. And we hear their voices and get to see evidence of their being with us still, just as you did when you discovered your Mom’s picture. I loved reading about that again. Miracles to us, reality to God.

I am running on again. Blessings are sent your way and prayers as always. Thanks for this post, dear Fr.

Thank you, once again Fr.Gordon…At almost 72, I’m in my own sort of prison… Thank you for the Mother’s day Mass you will be offering, & for your spiritual guidance. I’m sure you have No idea what the Holy Spirit has accomplished in my life, in every single case, through a “Broken” Priest! I just now realized that, as I was typing!! Fr. John C. was the 2nd, & I found your site through his Agony. The 1st priest, I cannot speak about here, but for 3 years, he was my Spiritual Director. That was way back in 1977…I continue to pray 24/7 for him, as I do for all of you. And there are so many!!! But, I’m starting to see a ‘Pattern’ here, a Paradox that only shows up when the Holy Spirit is involved….On a lighter note, I’ve posted the article from Holy Souls Hermitage on the strange events surrounding your case, on the top of the FB page of my Diocese ….I’ve been blocked from the USCCB page because I asked for “Holy Priests instead of past middle-aged, CEOs”..I would post it there if I could…
God bless & keep you-
Kathleen

Dear Fr. MacRae,
Do please pray for our mothers, living and deceased. My mother Edith passed in 2007. She died between two phone calls, I was never able to get back to her to finish our conversation. She was an encourager and a listener to others and I’ve tried to do the same. I hope she and your dear mother perhaps have met and are praying for all of us.
As for your dream, your promises made at your ordination continue to inspire and encourage people inside and out of prison walls. I am sorry you have suffered so much. Like Christ you have gone into the depths to rescue men’s souls. You are always in my prayers for priests. Thanks for the great inspiration!

God bless you, Father MacRae, the greatest prison in life is not stone walls, it is lies. My own beloved mother turns 75 this month, and is heartbroken, her oldest child along with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren will have nothing to do with her or the rest of the family. I can’t explain the reason for this other than love caught in a lie, and the price of love being acceptance and approval of the lie. My mom, with all of her imperfections, is trustworthy, but it is simply knowing the truth and defending the truth that seems to be too costly for my sister. My mom, and the rest of the family, simply had to be cut off and shut out. Please pray for my sister and her family!
My mom, on her fiftieth birthday, was suffering terribly for the loss of her parents who died within a month of each other that year. Being mom, she didn’t let anyone know. That night, when she went to bed, she found a card under her pillow, a corner of the veil. On the front was Happy Fiftieth, Mom and Dad! It was an invitation to their fiftieth wedding anniversary, but my mom knew it from that moment to be her birthday card from them.
Love and prayers,
Cathy

Father Gordon, every time I read one of your posts, I feel as if I have received an insight into some profound fact that I have overlooked and failed to appreciate. Today’s post is no different. I can’t begin to comprehend God’s designs, but I am convinced that you are serving Him in a mysterious way (to us humans) and that He is pleased. God seems to like to deal with paradoxes and using a ‘conviced felon’ (supposedly a BAD guy) to do His finest work is certainly a paradox in my humble opinion. Be strong Father! I pray for you and I believe many others do too. I think your mother came to you in that dream to let you know that she now understands God’s plan and that instead of shame your priesthood is a great source of pride tfor her. I am sure she wanted you to know she is so proud of you. God bless.

And thank you for your prayers. I am a mother, so you will be praying for me too.

What measures of faith,hope and love are in your story. A thought came to me that a novena to Our Lady Undoer of knots would help you .It is very powerful. I hope you can get it . I sent you the mother of God, of priests. I will send you this novena also.
Elizabeth

A PRAYER FOR PRIESTS
(By Pope John-Paul II)
O Mary,
Mother of Jesus Christ and Mother of priests,
accept this title which we bestow on you
to celebrate your motherhood
and to contemplate with you the priesthood
of, your Son and of your sons,
O holy Mother of God.

O Mother of Christ,
to the Messiah-priest you gave a body of flesh
through the anointing of the Holy Spirit
for the salvation of the poor and the contrite of heart;
guard priests in your heart and in the Church,
O Mother of the Savior.

O Mother of Faith,
you accompanied to the Temple the Son of Man,
the fulfillment of the promises given to the fathers;
give to the Father for his glory
the priests of your Son,
O Ark of the Covenant.

O Mother of the Church,
in the midst of the disciples in the upper room
you prayed to the Spirit
for the new people and their shepherds;
obtain for the Order of Presbyters
a full measure of gifts,
O Queen of the Apostles.

O Mother of Jesus Christ,
you were with him at the beginning
of his life and mission,
you sought the Master among the crowd,
you stood beside him when he was lifted up from the earth
consumed as the one eternal sacrifice,
and you had John, your son, near at hand;
accept from the beginning those who have been called,
protect their growth,
in their life ministry accompany your sons,
O Mother of Priests.

A very beautiful love story of a mother and her son … of a son and her mother. I think of our Blessed Mother and her Son… and the Son and His Mother!!! Thank you for celebrating Holy Mass for us mothers and our own mothers! I used to bring my mother who has alzheimers before a beautiful picture of our Blessed Mother. Her face would lit up and say “She is so beautiful”

I recently, stumbled out the car and into the, depositing my groceries and items from my errands onto the kitchen island, my sweet 10-year old daughter, noticed my tears, and asked what was the matter. I was so embarrassed to be crying—yet again—about my mother, gone not yet a year. The littlest things set me off. This time it was the radio announcer talking about Mother’s Day. I wondered what I should get my mom this year, and then it hit me, like so many other times lately, that I didn’t need to send a gift or a card, for she is no longer here.
I had already planned to go back and reread “A Corner of the Veil.” Thank you for linking to it. I realized that, although that is one of my top five favorites of your posts, Father, I might have a teensy bit better understanding of your loss now. I still couldn’t imagine the separation that your unjust imprisonment and her health caused at the end, but I could sense a little more about the pain of the loss of her.
It helps me to know that my mom is here with me in such a different (and better) way, and I think it’s so neat that your mom can visit the prison now whenever she pleases.
As a mother, I can’t even begin to understand the pain of being the mother of a priest who is falsely accused. Yet, God’s grace is there for us at every moment to get us through it, and I imagine that her suffering during those years is benefitting you now.
I don’t think I’ve ever said this to a priest before, but “Happy Mother’s Day, Father!” God bless you and Pornchai.

Once again Father you have reduced me to tears…. I do hope your Mother appears in more of your dreams. I cannot imagine your grief as you watched her health deteriorate on her visits to you. I remember reading that you asked her whether she would have preferred you to lie and take the easy way out. She had replied that she wanted you to fight for the truth which you are doing. A wonderful mum indeed.

Thank you for offering your Mass on American Mother’s Day for us mothers and for our own mothers. My own mother died three years ago but I am ashamed to say I still find it impossible to mourn her. A Priest has suggested I try and mourn the relationship I never had with her. Perhaps that advice might help others …